


Joker Stealin' Batbitch

by niteynyx



Series: Nitey's Commissions [45]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Cunnilingus, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Futanari, Light BDSM, Master/Slave, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mindbreak, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niteynyx/pseuds/niteynyx
Summary: Batgirl may or may not be fucking the Joker. Harley is sure that he's cheating on her, even though the pair broke up a good forever ago. Ivy doesn't really care about any of that; if Harley wants revenge, she'll do whatever it takes to make the clown princess of crime happy, even if that goes so far as to include a little bit of abduction, a little bit of plant-assisted futanari, and a little bit of mindbreak. They break the Batbitch. Anonymous commission.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Harleen Quinzel, Barbara Gordon/Pamela Isley, Barbara Gordon/Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Series: Nitey's Commissions [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896736
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Joker Stealin' Batbitch

On the other side of their downtown Gotham apartment, Harley’s hyenas were braying and cackling in an uproar, just as loud and excited as their ‘mommy’ was. Her noise was always infectious to them and even when they couldn’t see her or why she was laughing or crying or screaming, they always joined along with her. 

The first few times that Pamela Isley - perhaps better known by her moniker Poison Ivy - heard them laughing, she found it amusing. Cute. Almost endearing. She had her plants, after all. She could understand Harley’s love for her cackling beasts, and they brought out a more caring side in the clown princess of crime that Ivy loved to see.

Those ‘first few times’ were well over a year ago now. She still loved the more motherly side of Harley that they brought out, but -- Harley was  _ always _ loud, and that meant her hyenas were always being loud and excited with her. Day in, day out, whether it was over breakfast or lunch or when a predictable twist took place in one of the many afternoon soap operas Harley was deeply invested in. 

Ivy had begun to find their laughter more than a little grating, but she cared too much about her clown princess to ever mention it. Her early attempts to sound-proof her bedroom with vines and flowers didn’t pan out quite as well as she would have liked, but over the last five or six months the famous biochemist had devised an alternative solution. While Ivy found the hyenas obnoxious, she could  _ mostly _ block them out with the far sweeter noise that could be ever-so-easily coaxed out of Harley’s sensitive body.

So whenever Ivy wanted to concentrate or just not have to deal with the headache that uninterrupted hours of cackling hyenas gave her, she got Harley in a different room from her precious babies and set to work on coaxing those noises out. Though, it might have been more apt to simply say she fucked those noises out of Harley’s ridiculously sensitive body. Of course, as a scientist Ivy recognized her circular logic and self-fulfilling prophecy for what it was; making Harley drown out the sound of her hyenas would only keep them cackling. She knew how infectious the clown princess’ noise was, after all. But it wasn’t like she would ever succeed in shutting them up.

The villainous roomies with benefits were once again in Ivy’s bedroom -- her jungle, her personal garden. Harley hung upside down from the ceiling, suspended by long green tendrils, flowering vines controlled by Ivy’s will, wrapped around her lean legs and gently toned arms. One had snaked around the naked blonde’s neck, though not for the purposes of choking her. It supported her neck and kept Harley’s head angled and tilted  _ just _ so, to keep it exactly where Ivy wanted the clown princess’ head to be. Perfectly positioned for where she wanted Harley’s devilishly long tongue.

Naturally, that place was Ivy’s clit. Equally naked as her girlfriend, Ivy stood with her feet set wider apart than her rounded shoulders, the blonde’s carefully supported head tucked just between Ivy’s thighs. Her eyes lidded heavily with satisfaction. It was an utter shame that Harley spent so long sucking and fucking Joker’s cock. Ivy was  _ absolutely _ certain that the clown princess was far more talented when it came to working with a woman’s pussy - and with how eager Harley always was to eat her out, she suspected Harley’s bisexuality leaned a bit more sapphic than hetero.

Though Ivy had an inarguably dominant position and was quickly building towards leaving a wet mess all over her girlfriend’s face, she was giving just as good as she got, if not better. Her upper body was pressed in close to Harley’s suspended form, her heavy green breasts squeezed against the clown princess’ lower abdomen, the darker green of her stiff nipples pressing prominently into Harley’s fair skin. 

Either of her arms were curled up and around Harley’s hips, curling up behind her hips. One of her hands grabbed the tight bubble of Harley’s toned ass, digging her fingernails in deep. The other hand was lifted higher, its fingers curled around the base of another vine, pumping her wrist to busily fuck Harley’s wet pussy with it. A flared vine, the species found nowhere else in the world but where Ivy wanted them to grow. It was designed, purposely bred and grown for Ivy’s pleasure -- after all, why would she use a plastic manmade cock? -- but she wasn’t beyond sharing them with the right woman. 

Harley had already cummed twice on the cock-like vine, but her sweet moans and keening cries kept on going steadily afterwards. In spite of all the noise she was making and the blood surely rushing to her head, she barely missed a beat in her clit-licking rhythm. Ivy shook her head, secretly astonished as ever with the clown princess’ sheer sexual stamina. She was like an endless battery of sensual energy, the Energizer Bunny in fuckable form. 

It was hard to believe that Harley was fully human -- but Ivy knew for a fact she was. When she realized the true depths of the nymphomaniac’s libido and stamina, she collected samples and ran tests, sure she would find some mutation in Harley’s DNA. She was shocked to find nothing at all.

Not that Ivy dwelled on any of that. Not with her orgasm finally rushing up on her, the inevitable result of letting Harley have her head. “Harleen,” she whispered breathlessly. “You’re… such a good girl. Here’s your r-reward.” Though Ivy always tried to maintain her composure in moments like these and  _ usually _ succeeded, it was harder with Harley. She was just too good at what she was doing. 

Those weren’t words Ivy would have uttered to a man if she ever let one eat out at her garden, knowing that they would probably lose any sense of purpose and rhythm and ruin her orgasm in a sudden, sloppy frenzy. Harley knew exactly what Ivy wanted -- for her to keep doing what she was doing, and not stop. 

Soon the moment was upon the villainess, Ivy’s thighs tightening reflexively and unconsciously squeezing around Harley’s head, her body refusing to let the clown princess go lest she stop at the last moment. Her eyes closing, she muffled her cry of pleasure with a rough bite on Harley’s thigh, her arms hugging the clown princess’ body all the tighter in that moment. A shiver ran up the redhead’s spine as all the building pressure in her body gave way at once, already tense muscles clenching hard and releasing just as powerfully. With that pressure came a fresh flood of Ivy’s feminine juices.

The blonde clown princess didn’t let up on Ivy’s clit until it stopped, and then she turned her attention towards mopping it all up with her tongue, in utter love and ecstasy with the sweet, candy-like taste of the half-plant woman’s release. That adoring attention had Ivy shivering and moaning all the longer, her lips still pressed against Harley’s thigh, one hell of a hickey already developing on the jester’s otherwise pristine skin. Basking in her afterglow, Ivy couldn’t hear the hyenas braying with their laughter anymore. No, she could only hear the sound of Harley’s eager work against her clit and folds and the blonde’s happy, humming moans of enjoyment and appreciation; somewhere under that, Ivy knew she herself was moaning.

Slowly but surely, the wherewithal to continue fucking Harley’s flushed cunt returned to Ivy, and she reached for the vine with her still trembling fingers. She paused just short of impaling her girlfriend’s cunt once more, confused by the sound of the clown princess seeming to hiccup, soon followed by a whining groan and Harley shoving her golden-haired head into the soft skin of Ivy’s thigh. “Harley?” Ivy murmured, though the blonde didn’t answer her. Glancing down, she could see the clown princess’s shoulders shaking, and could feel her start to snivel against Ivy’s green-tinted skin.

_ … Great. _ As much as Ivy loved Harley and wouldn’t change her for the world, she wasn’t a fan of the clown princess’ mood swings or more extreme reactions, but she knew she had to take the good with the bad. Drawing a breath, Ivy slipped her arms away from Harley’s hips and took a step back. Without the half-plant woman’s skin muffling her lips, Harley’s crying was much more apparent for what it was -- and if it got any louder, the hyenas were liable to go completely apeshit. Ivy couldn’t let that happen, not unless she wanted a cluster headache.

At Ivy’s silent command, the vines suspending Harley upside down in perfect pussy licking position twisted, all but flipping her right-side up, still holding her aloft, eye-to-eye with Ivy. For anyone  _ but _ Harley, such a sudden movement would probably induce an equally sudden sense of vertigo and leave them disorientated. It would have ended the crying right then and there. For the blonde clown princess, though, flipping around willy-nilly was usual business. She gasped softly and then blinked, then resumed her pretty little snivelling, the onset of wetworks threatening to ruin the makeup she took an hour to apply each morning. “R-Red, it’s awful,” she whimpered, her bottom lip trembling. 

Ivy rolled her eyes. What Harley was just doing -- what she should have  _ still _ been doing -- was anything but awful. It was fantastic. She let out a small sigh, knowing that even if Harley noticed her mild exasperation and irritation, she wasn’t liable to react to it. Harley’s emotions were always a strong thing, dominating her mind and her spastic focus. Ivy’s first order of business would be to tampen things down before Harley worked herself into a fit of pique. The half-plant woman stepped into Harley’s personal bubble, their soft breasts pressing together as Ivy molded her body to the blonde’s, slipping her lean arms around her body once again.

With the vines spreading her akimbo and keeping her arms stretched out to either side, Harley couldn’t escape from Ivy’s hug. The vine still wrapped around her neck kept her from moving her head away from Ivy’s soft but assertive kiss, not that she was likely to try and escape from something she loved so much. Closing her eyes, Harley gave in entirely to Ivy without a second’s hesitation, welcoming the redhead’s tongue into her mouth, more than eager to share the taste of the redhead’s pussy still on her tongue. Every sign of Harley’s imminent breakdown quickly faded away, her nymphomania once more taking center stage. Suspended as she was, she could barely move -- but she could still flex her hips, trying to grind her cunt against Ivy’s belly in futile fashion during the kiss, soon groaning her soft frustration into it.

Ivy broke the kiss off, smiling faintly to herself, figuring that Harley must have been getting close to cumming when whatever triggered her wetworks crossed her mind. She rested her brow against the blonde clown princess’, gazing into her eyes as they reopened. “Tell me what’s wrong, Harleen,” she whispered, her plush lips just a hair away from the blonde’s. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it better.” The vines curled around Harley’s legs creeped further up her thighs, up her hips and around her waist, wrapping around her tightly and preventing the buck and flex of her hips. 

Of course, Ivy never gave Harley a chance to complain about the inherent denial or her immobility. She twisted her wrist and pointed her slender digits towards the floor, and another of Ivy’s long cockvines rose from her personal garden’s floor, sliding into her waiting palm. The blonde clown princess’ answer to Ivy’s question was delayed by her moaning, her eyelashes fluttering as Ivy dragged the flared head of the vine along her soaken wet cunt’s lips. Her eyes closed altogether and she bit down hard on her bottom lip when Ivy once again speared her with it, working it in slowly and angling it  _ just _ right, brushing its head along Harley’s g-spot.

The blonde bit down savagely on her bottom lip, a shiver running through her acrobatic body, muscles tensing in its wake. “It’s-- it’s Mistah J,” Harley whispered, her words a breathless rush. “He’s cheatin’ on me, Red. And I bet he’s been doin’ it for months, ‘cos every time I get a text from his henchmen it’s about that other red… that other red… oh, fuck, Red.” Ivy didn’t let up, even as Harley grew distracted, even as moans interspersed the blonde’s words and her near orgasm became plain. 

“That other fuckin’... redheaded.. Batbitch!” Though Harley surely meant to convey her anger with a scream and a snarl, it instead came out in a high-pitched squeal, one that quickly tapered off into a wordless cry as her cunt began to spasm around the vine filling her, her body trying and failing to writhe in its tight confines as the blonde lost control of herself, and her volume. Ivy quickly went to cover the clown princess’ mouth with another kiss, but once her shuddering orgasm ended and her whining cry went quiet, Ivy knew that the kiss was a moment too late. Across the apartment, the hyenas were cackling uproariously.

Ivy sighed again, a soft breath against Harley’s mouth, then ended their kiss and murmured against her lover’s lips. Though the words were simple, she kept her tone soft and soothing, not betraying her true thoughts. Every now and then, Harley began acting like she was still an item with the clown prince of crime who introduced her to her current lifestyle, the Joker. They had broken up over a year ago, on extremely sour terms, and none of their encounters since then went particularly well. 

Though Ivy wasn’t a psychiatrist (ironically, Harley was), she suspected it had to do with the Joker’s henchmen -- the band of ne’er-do-wells that Harley always saw as her children with the Joker. Real children, in some sick way, not like the furry monstrosities that were making a racket across their apartment. The furry monstrosities that Selina Kyle was now shouting at, trying to get them to shut the fuck up, bless her heart. Even though they knew the pair were broken up, they still texted Harley about the Joker constantly, like children seeking their mother’s approval when their father was being aloof.

“Is it Batwoman, or Batgirl?” Ivy murmured, her fingers releasing the vine in Harley’s cunt, letting it slide down to the garden’s soil. She had no idea why Harley would jump to assume the Joker was getting it on with Batman’s archnemesis, but she knew it wasn’t worth dwelling on, or even really talking it out. The quickest way to deal with Harley’s problem would be to deal with it directly -- which would really,  _ really _ just be an excuse for Ivy to get the fuck away from the hyenas.

Breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, Harley opened her glassy eyes and stared at Ivy uncomprehendingly. “I… ‘unno,” she mumbled back thickly. “Whichever one has red hair, Red. Fuckin’... man stealer. Batbitch.” The blonde clown princess’ words slurred together. “They’re all fuckin’ batbitches, Red.” Selina’s shouting only seemed to rile the hyenas up all the more.

Ivy silently begged the Green to give her patience in the face of her impending headache. “It’s not important. We’ll figure it out and deal with it,” she promised Harley, who began to grin foolishly, like a lovesick puppy, half in pleasure from her orgasm and half in adoration of her Red. Unlike her Mistah J, her Red always gave her what she needed -- and in Harley’s twisted mind, there was no difference between ‘need’ and ‘want’.

*****-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-*****

The first thing that came back to Barbara when she regained consciousness wasn’t her wits or an awareness of her surroundings. It was the splitting headache that was assaulting her skull like she owed it money, making her groan out pitifully and squeeze her eyes tightly shut. Her instinctive reflex was to roll over and curl her body into itself, one arm hugging her legs in tight to her body while the other went to her head, not to check the damage but for a futile attempt to just rub the headache away. That’s when awareness came back to her. Though her muscles moved, Barbara’s limbs barely budged. She was… restrained? 

Slowly, Barbara blinked, and then she blinked again, seeing only darkness, but feeling the blindfold covering her baby blue eyes. Taking a slow breath, she tugged at whatever was holding her down and assessed her position. She was laying on something smooth -- something like finished wood. A desk, or maybe a table. 

Her arms were stretched out along the length of whatever she laid upon, wrists bound together. Not quite tight enough to cut off her circulation, but tight enough to be unpleasant, and tight enough that she suspected she wouldn’t be able to work her wrists free. 

She couldn’t tell what the material was by its feel alone. If it were zip ties or rope, she’d know. While her arms were stretched along the desk, Barbara’s legs were spread wide open, raised and pulled back. Whatever was tied around her ankles seemed to be suspended from the ceiling.

Blindfolded and bound, but not gagged. She parted her sweet lips for a moment and took a small sliver of a breath. Bruce and Alfred had trained her for situations like this -- she had to be careful. She had to give herself a chance to figure out where she was, and who had her. She had to give herself a chance to remember how the  _ fuck _ she got into this situation to begin with. Could it have been another training drill? Maybe. Bruce loved to surprise the members of his Bat Family with unexpected tests and trials, always keeping them on their toes.

Except… Barbara could feel cool air brushing the pink tips of her breasts, and she could feel it caress the lips of her perfectly smooth cunt. Both were already showing hints of her arousal, with her nipples raised to prominent peaks and the folds of her pussy growing damp. The latter’s wetness made the breeze all the more noticeable, driving a short shiver up Barbara’s spine and making goosebumps begin to crawl up her skin.  _ No _ , Barbara told herself, unconsciously darting her tongue out to wetten her lips in a nervous tic.  _ Bruce wouldn’t strip me down. _ And if for some reason he did, he wouldn’t leave Barbara’s cowl on, the only garment she could feel against her skin. 

_ Dick? _ Maybe. They both loved to use ropes and blindfolds in the bedroom, switching who had control on a night-by-night basis. But if it was Dick, he would have made himself known by now -- and there was no way that he would kidnap her without her express consent. Barbara’s breathing began to come in a little heavier, a little quicker. With how much her head was pounding, she couldn’t remember how she got here -- but she felt a hope rise in her belly. They were talking about trying breathplay recently. Maybe that’s what happened -- he just got a little too rough with Barbara, made her black out.

That’s what she hoped for, even though the headache seemed to stem from the back of her head. Almost like a cartoon character snuck up behind her and smashed a comically large mallet into the back of her head, sure it would knock her out. Barbara couldn’t help but smile nervously to herself. If it wasn’t some sexual misadventure with Dick, maybe that’s what it would turn out to be. Maybe the blindfold would come off and Bugs Bunny would be standing over her, waiting to invite her to Toon World to star in  _ Space Jam 2 _ . Waking up naked and restrained in any other situation would be horrifying.

“HEY, RED,” a familiar voice shouted, some of its naturally throaty effect lost to its owner’s eagerness and excitement. “SHE’S UP. THE BATBITCH IS UP. C”MON.” Staunchly hetero as she was, Barbara couldn’t deny how hot the woman’s voice was. Not sensual, but hot in a crazy way, the way that promised a good time and a keyed car in the aftermath. In most other situations, Barbara wouldn’t mind listening to Harley speak or sing, provided she wasn’t being a complete and utter lunatic. But her shouting did  _ not _ help Barbara’s headache in the slightest. She winced. Even Harley’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor --  _ why isn’t she wearing her boots _ ? -- hurt.

“I’m right here, Harleen. You don’t need to raise your voice,” Poison Ivy murmured. While Harley’s throatiness always had to contend with her high-pitched hysterics and whimsy, Ivy’s cool confidence and natural elegance tempered hers. Her voice conveyed a far different promise than the blonde clown princess of crime’s -- sensuality and calculated danger at once. Ivy joined Harley at Barbara’s side and removed the blindfold. Even though the room’s lighting dim, Barbara had to squint against it, blinking up at the pair of women.

It was impossible to ignore their exposure, their tightened nipples. Though Barbara could only see them from the waist up, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find that the buxom supervillains were wearing just as little below the belt as they were wearing above it. Her brow creased in confusion. Harley’s lipstick was smeared, while Ivy’s green-tinted skin was peppered with kiss marks. The former was grinning cheerfully, while the latter smiled faintly, as though she were indulging Harley.  _ Were they…? What’s-- what the fuck have I gotten myself into? And how the fuck did I get into it? _

Everything suddenly clicked into place. A cartoon character. A comically large mallet. Harley  _ was _ her Bugs Bunny, but she wasn’t about to pull Barbara -- a naked, masked Batgirl -- into Toon World. Barbara swallowed thickly, then whispered up to them softly. “What’s going on here?” Even as she said the words, Barbara’s memory came creeping back to her. Before Harley snuck up and hit her with the mallet, Barbara had been staking out the Joker’s henchmen, trying to figure out what dastardly heist or mayhem he was planning. A quick glance around told her they were still in the high-rise apartment she had rented for it, a perfect vantage point.

“Ha! Like you don’t know, you batty ol’ bitch,” Harley harrumphed, her grin disappearing as she reached down to grab Barbara by the jaw, lowering her face until it was barely a hair higher than the vigilante’s. “You mean, batty, Joker-stealin’ bitch,” the blonde clown princess sneered. Barbara yelped in shock and pain when Harley’s other hand went down, slapping her across one tit. “And now we’re gonna teach you a lil’ lesson about harassing my man,” she told Barbara, chasing the words with another slap that made the crimefighter yelp again. Her sneer transformed back into her grin, but with a far more vicious edge.

The pain flaring across her tit and her quickly escalating panic, paired with a healthy dose of confusion, made Barbara all but forget her pounding headache. “W-what’re you talking about?” she squeaked out as Harley released her jaw and straightened. Another dart of her eyes, and Barbara knew what was holding her -- Ivy’s vines, tough as steel.

Any hope that Barbara held in her heart crumbled. With those holding her down, wasn’t getting free any time soon. Ivy strayed away from Harley’s side, stepping to the end of the table. The half-plant femme fatale reached out and took hold of Barbara’s hips; the restrained redhead immediately tried to wriggle away, but she had no leverage with the vines holding her. Ivy slid Barbara’s ass to the edge of the desk. “It’s better you don’t ask,” Ivy gently advised Barbara, only deepening her confusion.

But Harley clearly wanted to tell Barbara. She grabbed the crime fighter's long red hair and tugged it up painfully, making her crane her head and look directly at Ivy and what the redhead was doing. The  _ second _ thing that Barbara noticed about Ivy confirmed her suspicions. She was  _ au naturale _ , naked as the day she was born -- but that observation was just a dim afterthought. “You ain’t get to play dumb, you stupid hussy,” Harley half-hissed, half-laughed in Barbara’s ear. “I know you’re sneakin’ around, fooling around with Mistah J behind my back. And here I thought we were  _ friends _ ,” she said, her eyes widening with mania.

Barbara could barely hear her, though. Her eyes widened, not with mania but with sudden apprehension. The  _ first _ thing that Barbara noticed about Ivy was her proud arousal, standing hard and tall. A strange, stiff seemed to be fused seamlessly just over the entrance of the other redhead’s damp cunt, almost like some sick parody of a human male’s cock.  _ Almost _ . The word parody implied humor or social commentary. Ivy’s plant cock wasn’t a parody of cock, it was the perfection of cock. Thick, long. Purposefully nubbed in just the right places to hit all the right places in a woman’s pussy, no matter what way or angle it penetrated them. One small part of Barbara, the perverse part of her that loved being tied up and far more devious kinks, wanted to know what it would feel like inside of her.

The rest of Barbara was terrified. With Ivy standing where she was, her cock only had two possible destinations, and she was sure whichever hole Ivy chose to use, it would break her. She opened her mouth, ready to beg for  _ anything but _ , but just as quickly as Harley jerked Barbara’s head up, Harley pushed it back down, making her grunt instead. “Maybe,” the blonde clown princess whispered venomously, climbing up on the sturdy table with one knee, “you’re thinkin’  _ what’s a little cock between friends _ or somethin’ like that. Well, you man-stealin’ Batbitch, Red is gonna show you. She’s gonna show you real good.”

Before Barbara had a chance to make her case, before she had a chance to insist she wouldn’t go anywhere near the Joker’s dick with a six foot pole, Harley swung her other leg up over the table and straddled Barbara’s face, pressing her hips down and kissing Barbara’s sweet lips with a very wet pair of her own. “Oooh,” the clown princess half-giggled and half-purred. “That tickles, Batty. Hey, hey. Do you-- kiss your mother with that mouth?” Harley trilled, reaching down to grab cruel hold of Barbara’s tits, digging her fingernails into them savagely, each rough squeeze sending electric jolt through the crime fighter’s body. Without pause, she began to work her hips back and forth, grinding her wet slit against Barbara’s mouth.

Though she could barely believe what was happening to her, Barbara nevertheless had the presence of mind to purse her lips tightly together. The last thing she was going to do was slip this crazy bitch a little tongue and reward her in this fucked up situation. If she held out long enough, surely Bruce or Dick would show up and deal with the two supervillains, the pair of them evidently gone psycho. They needed to go back to Arkham. They needed professional help, maybe antidepressants -- Harley  _ definitely _ needed something to deal with her insane case of ADHD.

With Harley sitting on her face, grinding and humping away like a cat -- or maybe a hyena -- in heat, Barbara all but forgot about the real danger that was just inches away from her pussy. Of course, Ivy didn’t wait idly by while Harley used Barbara’s body like her personal jungle gym, watching her blonde lover play with a wry little smile. She stroked her cock in the meanwhile, coating it thoroughly with a variant of her special ‘sap’ -- not sticky at all, but a frictionless, all natural lube she had developed for when she fucked Harley’s tight, crazy little cunt. The version she used with the clown princess really was just lube.

The one that she had developed while waiting for Barbara to wake up doubled as a potent aphrodisiac, something the Batbitch’s slick fuckhole would quickly absorb. Harley wanted to make sure she had a  _ spectacular _ time, after all. Finally satisfied with how slick her plant dick had gotten, Ivy positioned its flared head at Barbara’s damp entrance and then began to push her way inside, spreading her folds wider than they had ever gone before.

“Oh,” Barbara gasped out the second she felt the cock’s strange heat against her sensitive little hole, her breath and parted lips only serving to play right into Harley’s hand -- or her wildly grinding pussy, as it were. The blonde giggled in perverse, gleeful delight at the sensation and seemed to double down on her efforts, pressing down all the more on to poor Barbara’s face. 

The next second, when Ivy’s cock began spearing into her in earnest, the younger redhead howled out against Harley. “Fuck!” Barbara tried to cry out, though the noise was muffled by Harley’s mewling quim. As Batgirl, her first instincts were to fight against the vines holding her and find a way out of this place, caught as she was between a wet cunt and a hard cock. She tried, wriggling desperately as she could. 

Though she still wore the mask, Barbara wasn’t Batgirl. Not like this, and not in this situation. She didn’t have a way out or any gadgets to use to make one. All of her wriggling only amounted to pretty little shivers that showcased the enticing ways that her gymnast’s trained body could move to the women holding her captive. Barbara was helpless against Harley’s grinding cunt, and equally helpless against Ivy’s plant cock as it went deeper and deeper into her personal batcave, filling her far more than any man ever had before.

She moaned her dismay against the blonde clown princess’ pussy. At least, that’s what she thought at first. And maybe it was in those first few moments after Ivy penetrated her and began to break in her tight hole. Soon, Barbara felt those moans for what they were -- what they had become. She had no way of knowing the truth or about the aphrodisiac smeared over Ivy’s cock, now being smeared all throughout her cunt and absorbed straight through its walls. Barbara wasn’t moaning in displeasure. Anything but, in fact. She was moaning like a wanton whore, even before the nubs on Ivy’s cock were rubbing against her g-spot or hitting the previously untouched depths of her pussy, breaking in ground Dick Grayson could never hope to reach.

“H-hey, Red. I’m-- I’m gonna--” Harley breathlessly tried to confide in Ivy, but her orgasm was upon her before she could finish the thought. Her nymphomania and libido were extreme enough that she could get off almost anywhere and anyhow, including while dry humping the face of one of her ex-boyfriend’s greatest enemies.

Just as she hilted herself inside Barbara’s pussy, Ivy leaned forward and over their victim, grabbing the back of Harley’s head and pulling her in for a hard kiss, muffling the blonde’s cry reflexively. As she trembled and her cunny left a wet mess all over Barbara’s mouth and mask, Harley’s nails raked over Barbara’s chest, leaving pink trails in their wake. The pleasurable wave ebbed and flowed, and with it her hands turned gentle, running smoothly over Barbara’s fair, pristine skin, luxuriating in her afterglow and in her lover’s kiss. 

Even during the kiss, Ivy began to pound Barbara’s pussy in earnest with short, deep thrusts, rough and without any form of mercy. While she didn’t have a  _ problem _ with Batgirl, she also didn’t see her as anything more than a hole to fuck and a way to satisfy Harley’s malicious whims. If she was being honest with herself, she’d have to admit that from minute one, the other redhead’s cunt was almost as perfect as Harley’s, only lacking that certain crazy edge brought on by Harley’s insanity. 

But the aphrodisiac was beginning to change that. When Barbara’s cunt began to squeeze and shudder around Ivy’s cock, the older redhead had to pull away from her blonde lover with a gasp of her own, her hand flying back down to grab Barbara’s hip again and hold both of them tight. The younger redhead’s muscles tensed up visibly, coiling up, her pleasure all but ready to explode outward. Ivy bit down on her bottom lip hard, turning her mind and focus towards holding out, towards not cumming the second Barbara did. “Good Green,” she whispered to herself, shoulders shuddering.

Without Ivy’s lips on her own, without her lover’s kiss, Harley’s hands turned cruel again. While her hips resumed their desperate work like she hadn’t cummed at all, her hands lifted and slapped down on Barbara’s breasts in unison, making the masked hero jolt and buck her hips, crying out against Harley’s pussy each time. After that, grinning like the crazy bitch of an ex-girlfriend that she was, she began to play Barbara’s poor breasts like a pair of drums, slapping them back and forth and delighting in the way they jiggled and bounced, as well as the way her handprints showed on them.

Barbara’s breasts were always particularly sensitive, and she hated anything more than a gentle touch or caress upon them. Harley’s early slaps, gropes and clawing nails were all torture to her nubile body, but with Ivy’s aphrodisiaic lube taking over her body, she found everything she already knew about her body flipped on its head. Years of sexual discovery and exploration were tossed out the window. The cruel abuse pushed her further over the edge than Ivy’s cock could alone. 

Barbara -- or maybe she had truly become Batbitch -- screamed out, the noise too loud to be muffled by Harley’s cunt alone. The new sensations and simulations she was receiving had overwhelmed her long ago, at first making it difficult for her to think and then making it impossible altogether, her mind burned blank with white hot pleasure. Cumming as hard as she did, her nails clawing wildly at the desk over her head, pushed new clarity over Barbara’s clouded mind. 

And that clarity gave her a single-minded focus. “More,” she tried to plead as she cried out. “More!” More  _ anything _ . It didn’t matter what. She didn’t want anything she was feeling right now to ever stop. She wanted  _ this _ to be her new life. Sex and debauchery, her body only existing for the pleasure of others. The spasms in her pussy infected the rest of her body, making her quiver, making it hard to even keep begging for more, fruitless as it was. Instead, she used her mouth for the next best thing, beginning to give Harley’s perfect pussy the tongue it deserved. Almost immediately, the blonde clown princess was crying out herself.

And Ivy, poor Poison Ivy, couldn’t hold on any longer, letting out a feminine growl as she buried her cock deep in Barbara’s pussy and finally let loose the cum-like sap that was keeping her vine cock turgid, continuing to thrust away until she had painted Barbara’s pussy with everything she had, feeling every moment of it as sure as if it were a real cock. The vine fell away from her body as she pulled away, panting for breath.

At the same time, Harley half-crawled and half-rolled off of Barbara’s masked face, moaning whorishly as she spilled out on the floor, a limp pile of well-satisfied woman. The three of them were each coated in a light sheen of sweat, highlighting the perfect curves and contours of their respective bodies. It took Harley a moment to pick herself off the floor, half-supporting her weight on the table as she panted desperately for breath. Together, the lovers looked towards their victim.

Barbara, Batgirl, Batbitch -- whatever you wanted to call her, she was laying there on the table, her eyes glazed over and glassy. Still shivering, still moving her hips as though she were being fucked, her mouth wide open and her cheeks flushed. “M-more,” she whispered, again and again and again, a begging litany.

They both stared at her, surprised at her state and left wordless. Harley broke the silence. “Hey, Red,” she mumbled. “Can we keep her?”

Silence. The implications were clear to both of them, but Ivy wasn’t shocked wordless. She was thinking things through. “Yes,” Ivy finally murmured. “But you either have to convince Selina or kick her out.”

“Deal!”

**Author's Note:**

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